The Unforgiven
by Moderndaydrifter
Summary: Gary could only hope Brigatti was right. Maybe the mob would lose interest.


"Gary, the paper has given you a day off and you are going to work all day here at the bar? That's why you hired all of those bartenders. Go catch a movie or something." Marissa folded her coat over her arm and clutched onto her cane. "It won't hurt to have a little time for yourself."

He wiped down a beer mug, trailing his fingers over the lip of the glass. "One of them called in sick. I don't want to leave Dave short handed on a Friday afternoon, though he would object. He loves his tips."

Marissa's brow creased. "Who called in sick?"

"That uhh…" Gary snapped his fingers, trying to remember her name. He could see her face but his memory was failing him. "That new girl. I hired her like two weeks ago."

"Ahh, that would be Sarah."

Gary nodded and poured himself a glass of beer from the tap, brushing his lips over the thick head that formed on top of the amber liquid. "Yeah, it's the third time already. I think I'm gonna have to let her go." He looked up and swallowed a gulp of the icy liquid down, noticing a man in a dark suit at the end of the bar.

Dave walked toward Gary, his eyebrow arched. "Hey Hobson, that guy down there is askin' for ya. I offered to get what he needed, but he insisted. Looks shady to me." Dave looked up at Gary, and he couldn't help but notice how he towered over him. Dave lacked in the height department, but was as stout as a brick wall.

"Thanks, Dave. I'll take care of it." He felt like he had swallowed a lead balloon. The man folded his arms over his chest and finally took his sunglasses off, allowing Gary a glimpse at his eyes. They were dark, just like his hair and complexion, adding to the mystery of the man in the fancy Italian suit.

"I'm Gary Hobson, can I help you?" He extended his hand for the stranger to shake, but he made no move to return the favor. Pulling his arm back in, he raked his fingers through his hair.

"I know who you are. Where's the money?" His voice was deep and raspy and his facial expression didn't change from the blank stare he had from the moment Gary had spotted him.

"What money?" The bar was beginning to grow crowded and Gary didn't have time for games.

The stranger finally broke a smile, exposing a silver tooth in the front of his mouth. "Hobson, let this be your warning. I'll see you around." He turned to make his exit and was out of earshot before Gary could even ask any other questions.

Turning back, he tried to shrug it off. He had dealt with many people who came in, claiming to be someone important but it turned out they were drunk and didn't know what they were saying. He took those pranksters and jokers with a grain of salt, but this one seemed a tad bit different to him. An Italian suit. And the man was sober; he could tell that from a mile away.

"What was that all about?"

Gary poured Marissa another glass of club soda, trying to think of a way to not worry her. "Some guy trying to start trouble. He's gone now, no problem." He began serving other customers in an attempt to avoid any more questions she had for him, and also to try and get his mind off of whoever that was and what the heck they meant by the money they wanted.

* * *

Normally rainy nights helped sooth Gary and made him sleep well, but he could only stare at the alarm clock and count down the minutes until the cat would visit his doorstep. Thunder clapped through his loft and the lightning was so bright that it practically lit up his entire house like it was daytime.

He kicked off his comforter and wiped the sweat from his brow. More thunder rumbled and the rain was coming down in full force. He strode to the window, watching down to the street where the gutters were completely flooded from the torrential downpour. Lightning reflected on the glass, and for a split second Gary could swear he saw the face of the stranger in the bar from earlier that evening. Stepping back, he rubbed his eyes to try and refocus his vision. It was impossible that he saw him since he was looking out of a second story window, but he hated how his imagination was playing tricks on him.

He opened the refrigerator and noticed that the interior light failed to come on. Reaching for the light switch on the wall, he flicked it on but there was no response. The thunderstorm must have knocked out his electricity. He fumbled through the contents inside and felt for a beer that was in the far corner. Another bolt of lightning soared through the sky, providing him enough light to pop off the lid. The fluid was still cold and finally he got his first feeling of drowsiness.

The fact that the electricity was off made him realize how much he relied on it. He even reached for the TV remote, only to remember that it wouldn't work either. "Talk about being a creature of habit," he said aloud and laughed at himself.

Sighing, he finished his Shiner Bock and set the empty bottle on the coffee table. He propped his legs up, leaning his head back. The shadows that appeared on his ceiling from each flash outside creeped him out, so he closed his eyes tightly to block out his thoughts.

_Thump!_

He jolted forward, falling to the floor. After a few seconds, he had come to his senses, only to realize that he was lying beside the couch. Sun creeped through the cracks in his blinds. He must have dozed off on the couch during the storm. He looked at the alarm clock across the room, but the time was blinking and it was obviously the wrong time. It said 1:55. He crooked his wrist. His watch said 6:32.

Yawning, he pulled himself to a standing position. The cat was right on time again, and he could only think of the crap he'd have to put up with today since he had gotten a day off from rescues the day before.

To his surprise, there weren't many, just a few minor things that would be simple, he just didn't want to count his chickens before they hatched. Many times the minor saves turned into the ones that gave him the most headaches. A knock on his door pulled his attention away from the fine print, and he peered through the peephole, only to see Marissa on the other side.

He undid the latch and let her in. "You're here early."

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd come see how your day looked." He watched as she strode through to his couch.

"A hit and run. An old lady breaks a hip in an attempt to save her cat from a fire escape. And something about a suspicious odor. My day in a nutshell."

She arched her eyebrow and smiled. "A suspicious odor?"

"Yeah, that's all the article says. Says it made a few people sick and they had to be rushed to the ER. It was at a restaurant. Almost doesn't sound worth my time. Doesn't even have their condition listed as critical."

She walked to his kitchen. "Yeah, but you still could save a couple of people some time in the hospital. You know how much of a pain that can be."

He rolled his eyes and was glad she couldn't see the fact that he was annoyed with her response. "I haven't made any coffee yet. And if you wanted breakfast I haven't exactly made it to the grocery store. Maybe in between a suspicious odor and some old lady worried about her cat I can pick up a few things." He threw the paper down on his table, glaring at it.

"Sounds like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"Sorry, I didn't sleep well." He paused and grabbed a towel. "I'm gonna grab a shower. Be out in a minute."

* * *

On his way to the restaurant he had managed to stop the car involved in the hit and run long enough so that it wouldn't cross paths with the pedestrian that had been jaywalking. Of course, the driver of the Ford Explorer was ungrateful that he wouldn't move out of the way, but Gary was used to that. Too bad the lady would never know how close she had come to having criminal charges pinned on her.

The old lady and the cat didn't happen until later in the afternoon so he had plenty of time, or so he hoped. He didn't want the odor to effect him like the others, and his mind raced with how he would explain this one to the patrons in the food establishment.

Thankfully the place wasn't packed yet. He grabbed the paper from his back pocket and scanned the article for what time the people had started to get sick, but it was vague and only mentioned that it happened right as lunch hour hit. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was 11:55. His eyes scanned the place and a hostess approached him.

"Sir, would you like smoking or non smoking?" She was a young girl and was probably older than she looked. He still couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't in school.

"No, I uhh, look. This is going to sound weird. Some people in here are going to get sick. We need to leave." He stammered on his words and by the look on her face she was ready to call security on him.

"Why do we need to leave?"

"Trust me. Just tell everyone there's an emergency in the kitchen and lets get them outside before it's too late."

She turned toward the dining area and back at him. "This is a joke right? You do realize you can get me fired? Why would you want to do that to me? I don't even know you!" Her voice was shaky and the last thing he wanted to do was make her cry.

"Look I don't want you to lose your job." He pushed past her, swallowing hard as he quickly thought of a way to get everyone's attention without causing an all out panic. "Everyone! Could you please stand up and make your exit out the front doors behind me!"

"Who are you buddy, and why should we do that? We are in the middle of our meal!" Gary wasn't sure where that voice had come from.

"I'm with the Chicago Health Department, and I have reason to believe there's something here that could make us all very sick, so if you'd just follow me, please!" He'd have to explain himself later when someone would ask for his proof of credentials, but he'd cross that bridge when he got there.

His lie got people moving, though some were reluctant. He pulled the paper out again, seeing that the headline now read that there was a gas leak, but the owners of the establishment had caught it in time before there was any real damage. Before any more questions were asked, he slipped behind the crowd of people and began to head back toward Michigan Avenue when he felt a hand grasp his arm from behind.

"Hey Hobson, what the heck are you doing here? You always gotta be caught up in the action."

Gary didn't even have to turn around to recognize the voice. It was Brigatti. He turned on his heel, forcing a fake smile at the detective. She was dressed in a long black overcoat, her hair loner than the last time he had seen her, almost to her shoulders and was the same jet black it had always been. Her cheeks were rosy from the brisk winter air.

"Hey Brigatti. What's up?" He pulled his jacket tight around his midsection.

"How'd you know about the gas leak?" She brushed some hair out of her face.

"I… I, well ya know."

She shook her head. "No, actually I don't. What gives, Hobson? Some guy in the crowd told me you were claiming to be a health inspector."

Gary quickly searched for an excuse. "I went in to grab some lunch and could smell it. I knew the only way I could get everyone out was to say that or they'd never believe me. It worked, didn't it?" He let out a low laugh, hoping she'd buy his quick fib.

"Yeah, I guess it did. I was just passing through when I saw the commotion. Talk about a coincidence, us running into each other again. I thought I was done with you." She too, giggled and he knew she was only joking with him. He'd never admit it out loud, but he missed seeing her around. Since Chuck had split to Chicago it was just he and Marissa. Brigatti wasn't really a friend, but she was good company when she allowed it.

He began to say something in response but he cut himself off when he noticed a man peaking around the corner at him about a block down the street. He wasn't close enough for Gary to be able to tell who he was, but by the way he was dressed he looked oddly close to the man who had confronted him in the bar the day before. His mouth grew dry. Maybe it was only his imagination. After all, he had just pissed off several people who were forced to leave their meal unattended. Maybe it was just a distraught customer.

"Hey Brigatti, it was nice seeing ya, but I gotta get going. I got an appointment in about twenty minutes I gotta get to."

"See ya around, Hobson."


End file.
